get away, (from me)

the crunching crackling,

the sharp bursts of sound

released by the brittle leaves

who cry in their pulverization

to my boots’ impact

on this rugged trek,

of this dried course

where cold streams

flowed months ago

i search

for trace of foothold

a path to wander

that is pleasant

lush and green,

but find none

i search to find

my place

for another night

but see only dirt and dust

inhaled with labored breath

i am tired

beyond the scale

of what is sane

my sinews and bones

my nerves scream

to find no relief

i do not like the course

my mind wanders on

were i to succomb,

i am too far

for someone to assist

whose efforts though,

i would nonetheless shun

human intrusion

breeds grief for me,

from whose presence

i would surely flee

i have nursed bruises and scabs

inflammations and irritations

of itch of skin

of itch of mind

on my weather worn body

on my turmoiled state of mind

i have survived as an outcast

running deep into the arms

of the wilderness

running far from the city

of wild dreams and schemes

where everyone wants

to eat my flesh

now,

new injuries come

by way of thorns,

sharpened rocks,

poison plants

and venomous insects

to which

my chapped lips

mutter rants

though my mind prefers these

to the ravings of human beings

who have taken from me

who have plundered

and trodden my love

for money and things

oh, mind,

tell my body

to quit its complaint,

or, “would it rather be crucified

by heartless humans?”

i scale the side of the mountain

defying gravity with

stubborn thigh muscles

accustomed oblivious

to persistent pain

the sun burns my scorched face

turned darkest brown

like oven baked,

raw mexican clay

if i fall

i fall onto gravel,

thistles briars and dirt,

pasted to the surface

of raw debris

no one will see,

but perhaps only those

whose eyes are there,

only to see me fall,

and gloat,

waiting for the opportunity

of my demise

into the spirit world

thus far

i have survived as an outcast

running deep into the arms

of the wilderness

from whose seclusion

i will not be outcast

though i die in her arms

though she be cruel

with cold or torrid breath

with her sharp,

or rough embrace,

i will die a happy man

her eyes at night sparkle

with bright lights,

her voice ever changes

with the moving still air,

her voice is captivating

whether soft or harsh

from her,

there is no reprimand,

she is what she is,

untamed wild,

she will not seduce,

or betray

she will not judge

she will only be

what she is

even as i am

who i am

though she kill me

she will not ask anything of me

she will not take from me

she will hide me with decomposition

no one will find my elemental dust

of which i am made

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Ruselnex, it is quite sometime since I read something of yours. You have taken me on quite a journey here. Captivating description of escaping from the world, living as a recluse. I get the sense of hurt from people and the protagonist just wants to get as far away from them as possible. You convey that feeling of isolation so well and being in the arms of nature where it is more comfortable to be. Where there is no judgement.

Chris

[RuseInex]

sure love and agree with your analysis Christine, you sum up the feelings of the protagonist perfectly, thanks for writing!

[Chris Shaw]

You are very welcome :)